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〃Jack wants to be kept up to speed on this one。〃
〃Well； tell the President that we're running as fast as we can； and all we have so far is from the Legal Attaché。 He's in tight with the local cops； but they don't seem to know shit either。 Maybe somebody tried to kill Sergey Nikolay'ch； but the Legat says he thinks Rasputin was the real target。
〃I suppose he had his share of enemies；〃 the Director of Central Intelligence conceded。
Thank you；〃 the Vice President concluded to the packed house at the Ole Miss field house。 The purpose of the speech was to announce that eight new destroyers would be built in the big Litton shipyard on the Mississippi Gulf Coast； which meant jobs and money for the state； always items of concern for the governor； who was now standing and applauding as though the Ole Miss football team had just knocked off Texas at the Cotton Bowl。 They took their sports seriously down here。 And their politics； Robby reminded himself； stifling a curse for this tawdry profession that was so much like medieval bargaining in a village square； three good pigs for a cow or something； toss in a mug of bitter ale。 Was this how one governed a country？ He grinned as he shook his head。 Well； there had been politics in the Navy； too； and he'd scaled those heights； but he'd done it； by being one hell of a good naval officer； and the best fucking fighter pilot ever to catapult off a flattop。 On the last score； of course he knew hat every fighter pilot sitting and waiting for the cat shot felt exactly the same way。。。 it was just that he was totally correct in his self…assessment。
There were the usual hands to shake ing off the platform； guided by his Secret Service detail in their dark； forbidding shades； then down the steps and out the back door to his car； where another squad of armed men waited； their vigilant eyes looking ever outward； like the gunners on a B…17 over Schweinfurt must have done； the Vice President thought。 One of them held open the car door； and Robby slid in。
〃TOMCAT is rolling；〃 the chief of the VP detail told his microphone as the car headed off。
Robby picked up his briefing folder as the car got onto the highway for the airport。 〃Anything important happening in D。C。？〃
〃Not that they've told me about；〃 the Secret Service agent answered。
Jackson nodded。 These were good people looking after him。 The detail chief； he figured； was a medium…to…senior captain； and the rest of his troops j。g。's to lieutenant manders； which was how Robby treated them。 They were underlings； but good ones； well…trained pros who merited the smile and the nod when they did things right； which they nearly always did。 They would have made good aviators； most of them … and the rest probably good Marines。 The car finally pulled up to the VC…20B jet in an isolated corner of the general…aviation part of the airport； surrounded by yet more security troops。 The driver stopped the car just twenty feet from the foot of the self…extending stairs。
〃You going to drive us home； sir？〃 the detail chief asked； suspecting the answer。
〃Bet your ass； Sam〃 was the smiling reply。
That didn't please the USAF captain detailed to be co…pilot on the aircraft； and it wasn't all that great for the lieutenant colonel supposed to be the pilot…in…mand of the modified Gulfstream III。 The Vice President liked to have the stick in his case the yoke … in his hands at all times； while the colonel worked the radio and monitored the instruments。 The aircraft spent most of its time on autopilot； of course； but Jackson； right seat or not； was determined to be the mand pilot on the flight； and you couldn't very well say no to him。 As a result； the captain would sit in the back and the colonel would be in the left seat； but jerking off。 What the hell； the latter thought； the Vice President told good stories； and was a fairly petent stick for a Navy puke。
〃Clear right；〃 Jackson said； a few minutes later。
〃Clear left；〃 the pilot replied； confirming the fact from the plane…walker in front of the Gulfstream。
〃Starting One；〃 Jackson said next； followed thirty seconds later by 〃Starting Two。〃。
The ribbon gauges came up nicely。 〃Looking good； sir；〃 the USAF lieutenant colonel reported。 The G had Rolls…Royce Spey engines； the same that had once been used on the U。K。 versions of the F…4 Phantom fighter； but somewhat more reliable。
〃Tower； this is Air Force Two； ready to taxi。〃
〃Air Force Two； Tower； cleared to taxiway three。〃
〃Roger； Tower AF…Two taxiing via three。〃 Jackson slipped the brakes and let the aircraft move； its fighter engines barely above idle； but guzzling a huge quantity of fuel for all that。 On a carrier； Jackson thought； you had plane handlers in yellow shirts to point you around。 Here you had to go according to the map/diagram … clipped to the center of the yoke … to the proper place； all the while looking around to make sure some idiot in a Cessna 172 didn't stray into your path like a stray car in the supermarket parking lot。 Finally； they reached the end of the runway； and turned to face down it。
〃Tower； this is Spade requesting permission to take off。〃 It just sort of came out on its own。
A laughing reply： 〃This ain't the Enterprise； Air Force Two； and we don't have cat shots here； but you are cleared to depart； sir。〃
You could hear the grin in the reply： 〃Roger； Tower； AF…Two is rolling。〃
〃Your call sign was really ‘Spade'？〃 the assigned mand pilot asked as the VC…20B started rolling。
〃Got hung on by my first CO； back when I was a new nugget。 And it kinda stuck。〃 The Vice President shook his head。 〃Jesus； that seems like a long time ago。〃
〃V…One； sir；〃 the Air Force officer said next； followed by 〃V…R。〃
At velocity…rotation； Jackson eased back on the yoke； bringing the aircraft off the ground and into the air。 The colonel retracted the landing gear on mand； while Jackson flipped the wheel half an inch left and right； rocking the wings a little as he always did to make sure the aircraft was willing to do what he told it。 It was； and inside of three minutes； the G was on autopilot； programmed to turn； climb； and level out at thirty…nine thousand feet。
〃Boring； isn't it？〃
〃Just another word for safe； sir；〃 the USAF officer replied。
Fucking trash…hauler； Jackson thought。 No fighter pilot would say something like that out loud。 Since when was flying supposed to be。。。 well； Robby had to admit to himself； he always buckled his seat belt before starting his car； and never did anything reckless； even with a fighter plane。 But it offended him that this aircraft； like almost all of the new ones； did so much of the work that he'd been trained to do himself。 It would even land itself。。。 well； the Navy had such systems aboard its carrier aircraft； but no proper naval aviator ever used it unless ordered to； something Robert Jefferson Jackson had always managed to avoid。 This trip would go into his logbook as time in mand； but it really wasn't。 Instead it was a microchip in mand； and his real function was to be there to take proper action in case something broke。 But nothing ever did。 Even the damned engines。 Once turbojets had lasted a mere nine or ten hours before having to be replaced。 N